Elementals
by Celestia Craven
Summary: Harry Potter has the ability to control fire. Due to Voldemort's Killing Curse hitting him, his powers awakened early as a child, allowing him to become a full Fire Elemental. Using this power, Harry Potter is much different from what anyone could...


**Story** : Elementals

**Disclaimer** : I don't own _Harry Potter._

**Author** : ChocolateCherryGenesis

**Summary** : Harry Potter has the ability to control fire. Due to Voldemort's Killing Curse hitting him, his powers awakened early as a child, allowing him to become a full Fire Elemental. Using this power, Harry Potter is much different from what anyone could imagine.

**Written** : February 6, 2012

**Published** : February 7, 2012

**Author's Note** : Yeah, I just thought that I could use this idea to really make Harry awesome. I already have some idea of where I'm going, so yay! If you guess who Earth and Air are (Earth seems pretty easy, because I've given lots of hints) please review. Thank you! Later chapters will have lots more action, because this is just setting the stage, really.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

The Awakening of the Elementals

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><p>When one full Elemental is born, the other three must also be born to keep the balance. Fire was first born, and then Water; but who are Earth and Air?<p>

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><p>Harry James Potter, just a little over a year old, was hit by a Killing Curse.<p>

It was fate, really.

Voldemort was fated to be stopped by Harry Potter, the chosen hero of the world. Harry was fated to live a good life, eventually fight the evil, dark wizard to the death, marry Ginny Weasley, and then everyone lives happily ever after - with Harry and his three children and their future descendants saving the world for decades afterwards.

But that didn't change the fact that this action helped create a true Fire Elemental. Fate _changed_.

Harry Potter was born with some talent at controlling the element of fire. However, that doesn't make a Fire Elemental. Oh, no, no! It takes much more than just that! A Fire Elemental is someone who has the natural ability to control the element of fire - in little ways, you understand, and it's quite unpredictable - who then has something happen to him or her that allows him or her to access his or her full potential.

Just like when little Harry James Potter was hit, point blank, with the Killing Curse.

That awakened his full potential. For a mental image, please picture a large battery connected with a loose, thin wire to a light bulb. This is how Harry's power was connected to him.

This "loose, thin wire", when shaken, sometimes connects the battery to the light bulb, allowing the light bulb to momentarily glow. However, it then quickly shuts off and assumes it's normal, loose position.

The Killing Curse is comparable to if you suddenly connected a mega-power battery with a huge wire to the light bulb. The light bulb would shine like the sun, wouldn't it? Well, assuming that your light bulb can take the power of the huge battery...

So, the Killing Curse shook what connected Harry to his still-shaky fire abilities, which luckily made him a Fire Elemental in a one-in-a-hundred chance.

Do you get the theory behind this entire story...? Good. Then I may proceed with the actual _effects_ of this "light bulb shining like the sun".

[] [] [] [] []

Little Harry Potter's emerald eyes opened as he felt the cold, October air around him.

Dumbledore had left him at the Dursleys' doorstep like a bottle of milk, forgetting that children are not to be left alone in cold weather for any amount of time - especially if they could run off and hurt themselves. Hey, he's a century and a half old. He's allowed to be forgetful. But to leave a kid outside in October? He could have at least rung the bell! And McGonagal didn't see anything wrong with it.

I guess it's true that something illogical like magic destroys common sense...

Anyway, Harry Potter was cold and wanted something warm. It's natural, isn't it? You'd feel that way too, if you were a year old and freezing from the cold with only a thin baby blanket as comfort. I'd bet you'd feel the same way if you were grown up, too! Have you ever been outside in October for hours? It's _freezing_, let me tell you.

And that's when the very last of his powers were activated.

His cursed scar was purged from his forehead, the lightning bolt that signaled the Boy-Who-Lived healed itself, and left in it's place was a small, upside-down, red triangle tattoo.

With that done, Harry Potter felt the air around him suddenly warm with little golden lights, and - little kid that he was - he decided to stumble down the street.

The basket and the letter left behind?

Well, let's just say that Petunia Dursley felt the slightest bit shocked when she found a pile of ash (all that remained from Harry's little mini-fire) on her front step in the morning...

Harry Potter didn't make it far. In fact, he made it one house down the row - to number six - before he fell flat on his face and started crying as if the world was ending around him. Which, to his little world, the world had already ended. I mean, who would leave a little kid out in the cold? That's just cruel.

When a man walked out of the house to see this, chaos commenced.

They called the police, the neighbors, the missing children list, and anything else they could think of.

But no one claimed the little kid they'd found in their front yard, who kept insisting that his name was "Hwawary Jamyisisie Potta'! Mwi mama twold mwe!". (Translation: Harry James Potter! My mama told me!)

By this time, Mister and Mrs Smith had fallen in love with their cute little guest, Harry James Potter, and they adopted him.

However, they soon realized that Harry was quite strange...

[] [] [] [] []

_Ten Years Later_

[] [] [] [] []

"Harry! The heat's not working again!" Mrs Smith shouted.

Harry walked in the room, pushing his round, silver glasses further up on his nose and sighed.

He was wearing the school uniform for the _Central England Academy for the Gifted_ - who had accepted him at the early age of eight [his powers and the Killing Curse had accidentally sorta re-wired his brain a little bit, giving him things like a perfect memory and a high IQ (because this is a story about wizards and things don't have to be realistic)] - which consisted of black pants, a white button-up shirt, a black sweater-vest with a symbol above his heart, shiny black shoes, and a blue tie.

"I'm coming..." He mumbled, setting down an ridiculously, unrealistically _huge_ tome on the kitchen table with a loud thump and shuffling over to the thermostat.

His mother watched in relief as Harry started poking at various things, before the heat starting coming through the vents again. "Thank you, Harry! I don't know what we'd do without you!" She smiled sweetly.

_You'd probably freeze, _He thought sarcastically, thought this was thought with a certain teasing friendliness, though his deadpan face didn't change.

His mother didn't appear bothered by the deadpan look at all, knowing that it was simply her son's nature to be quiet. It was a nice change at times, really, compared to her other five children - Emily, John, Matthew, Luke, and Mark. She and her husband had sighed in relief when their fifth child - not including Harry, of course - was a girl. They'd run out of gospel writers to name a boy after.

He shook his head slightly at his mother - he _still_ didn't understand why girls bounced around all the time with smiles on their faces whenever he fixed household appliances for them - and walked to his room with his ridiculously large book.

He sat at his desk, reading about things that you and I would never get smart enough to understand because he was bored and didn't have anything better to do.

Relaxing at his desk, he propped an elbow on the desk and rested his forehead on it, pushing his black fringe aside and showing the same red tattoo from so long ago. It was hardly noticeable when he hid it under his fringe, but gusts of wind were known to cause him to scowl as the other students would ask bothersome questions. They were already curious _enough_ about the school's best - and youngest - student.

Eventually, he just tacked up a response to any questions about his tattoo on the bulletin board.

_I was adopted at the age of approximately one by my current family. I already had my tattoo at that time._

That message kept most of them away, thought some of the more persistent of the curious genius students still tried to mob him. When it comes to a few dozen genius students trying to trap another, super genius student and then question him more, things are going to get messy. They just are.

I could tell you a very long story about the almost _countless_ attempts, but that would most likely bore you.

Well, to put it simply, Harry had fully realized his potential at that time. Or, at least, he already fully controlled the Fire Element.

As his thoughts drifted, Harry absently activated Level II and the tattoo on his forehead morphed into a diamond, with a sideways, outwards-facing triangles on the left and right. He smirked lightly, and held out a hand, allowing a little flame to suddenly appear.

It morphed into a bird-like figure, before it flew around the room.

Eventually, even practicing with Level II made Harry bored, and he fell asleep using the ridiculously huge book as a pillow. It was surprisingly soft.

[] [] [] [] []

"Harry... _Harry_... **_Harry_**!" A voice shouted.

Harry looked up slowly, to see his best friend, Hermione Jane Granger, standing at the door. Like him, she also attended the_ Central England Academy for the Gifted,_ though she was slightly older than him and also only attended classes in the morning, since she wasn't quite prepared to take full classes.

Harry, with his ten-year-old almost eleven-year-old mind, was already absolutely _sure_ that Hermione Jane Granger would he his friend forever. He noted that Hermione looked really cute with long black stockings, shiny black Mary Janes, black fingerless gloves/arm-warmers, her silver locket bracelet on her left wrist, her white button-up shirt, her plaid-patterned blue skirt, her black sweater-vest with the same symbol as Harry's above her own heart, a plaid bow-tie of the same pattern as her skirt, and her bushy hair pulled back with a ribbon into a pony-tail.

Harry looked up at her with an expressionless face, though inside he was jumping for joy at the visit by his friend. "Hey, Hermione. What's up?"

Hermione waved for him to follow her downstairs as she waited for him in the hall.

Once he pushed himself off the desk, closed the book, and shuffled out of his room unenthusiastically, Hermione jumped on him as he shut the door.

"You'll never guess what I got in the mail today!" She squealed.

As she hugged him, her black, fingerless glove/arm-warmer shifted slightly, allowing Harry to catch sight of a blue, triangular tattoo on the back of her hand with the point facing toward her fingers.

"Be more careful!" He exclaimed, showing a great deal of worry on his usually emotionless face.

She pulled the glove back in place, her former mood mostly shattered in an instant. "I'm sorry..." She mumbled.

Hermione, also, was an Elemental, though of Water.

Both of them tried to keep their abilities as secret as they could, though their families, of course, already knew everything.

Harry sat down in the hallway, not bothering to find a chair and slowly sliding from the wall to the hardwood floor as he sighed shakily and ran a hand through his hair. "We have to be _careful_, Hermione," He said. "Look, I don't want to be mean, but we have to keep this _secret_. If anyone figured out that we both have a strange tattoo, it could cause even more curiosity than what we already deal with."

"I know," Hermione said, keeping her head down. "I just find it so hard to keep my hand always covered..."

Harry gave another shaky sigh as he stood up, offering a hand to Hermione. "What was it that you received in the post?" He asked.

"A letter to - can you believe it? - a magical school!"

Harry blinked, reviewed his memory, allowed the portrait of an old man with half-moon glasses saying "good luck" as the man left him on the doorstep to play before his eyes, and then looked right back at Hermione.

"They're bad news," He stated with a firm, wise nod.

"Wha?" Hermione asked. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

"I remember an old man, Hermione. And I can tell he did something really, really stupid - though I can't quite remember what. I think he lost something, or left something... Anyway, those dreams of mine with the green light and the woman's screams? Yeah, that's the world of "wizards". Stay here where reason still exists," Harry monotoned.

"I see..." Hermione said. "Well, you've never been wrong before. I guess I'll have to just see if I can be sent some books..."

Harry shrugged. "Do what you wish. I already found a little bookshop with some wizard books (thought I haven't been able to find any more) and I've gone through them. Feel free to raid the second box to the left, three up. It doesn't have much cultural information, mostly only school textbooks."

Hermione quickly thanked her friend and ran off to the large closet in the downstairs hall - one wall of which was devoted completely to Harry's rather large collection of books.

"Second to the left, three up. Second to the left, three up. Second to the left, three up," Hermione murmured to herself. She finally arrived at the correct box and removed it from it's shelf, placing it gently on the floor.

Lugging the large box into the kitchen, she started enthusiastically devouring them - not really, of course, but it sometimes seemed like it to people who weren't used to Hermione's love of reading. Harry said beside her with a glass of orange juice, checking his email.

He murmured out loud. "This one's useless. Junk. Junk. Junk. School. Junk. Junk. Junk. Research. Junk. Junk. Junk. Oh, an invitation to a Sherlock Holmes convention; I better hold onto that one. Junk. Junk. They're publishing my next book. Junk. Junk. Junk. Fanmail. Junk. Junk. Junk... Geez! There's so much _junk_!"

Hermione looked upwards, Harry's voice being one of very few that could travel through to her when she was reading in her usual, trace-like state. "You could just program it to recognize keywords," She suggested.

"Maybe," Harry said. "But that's not fool-proof. And I have enough important mail to merit some care."

"Then you're out of luck..." She said absently, turning back to her book about magic mathematics and unable to really feel any true sympathy for her best friend when she was busy with much more interesting things.

Harry sighed, knowing that it wasn't Hermione's fault that she found knowledge so interesting. Though, he really wouldn't have it any other way. Hermione just wasn't quite Hermione without a love of knowledge.

He quickly opened an email, reading it swiftly. Both Hermione and him had signed up for a pen-pal program sponsored by the Academy. Harry had gotten mail from a person who didn't have much experience with technology, and went under the alias "John Plantwood".

_Dear James, _(Harry's own alias was James Archibald.)

_I hope that this email finds you well. I, myself, have been fortunate enough to see a rare flower in the greenhouses bloom, so I am in relatively good spirits._

_Recently, I have received a letter inviting me to a private school that I had been worried I would not be accepted to. I ask for your advice on this matter. While I've been told, my whole life, that I was not qualified enough to enter this school, I should be relieved that I was in fact accepted. However... I do not particularly wish to go. I should feel fortunate, but I do not wish to enter that school. _

_If I attend, I will be constantly reminded that I barely made it there. I, being of low self-confidence, am well aware of the consequences of that. As I've told you, I am interested mostly in Botany, which I am skilled at. Everything else the school offers in their core subjects - Chemistry, Physics, History, Defense, and Molecular Science - seems to have no use for me. _

_Unlike what you have told me of your own school (which concentrates on many different subjects because many intelligent children only take a few classes there because they are gifted mostly in one area), this school concentrates only on six classes, five of which are useless._

_Personally, I would like to know quite a bit of Defense. It would allow me to defend myself when my parents' murderer escapes from prison. I know it will eventually happen. Where I live, they try their best to ignore the fact that the leader of all these horrible people isn't dead. He disappeared when he attacked an infant - who is famous to us but hasn't appeared in public, supposedly he's in the care of a regular family - but he never died. There is no body._

_The Defense class has been infamous, for the past few decades, to have horrible teachers that each leave after only one year. It's supposedly a curse, though no one really believes that._

_I was hoping you could provide me with some insight, because I cannot see any course of action from where I now stand. On one hand, I could attend this school and make by grandmother proud of my and follow what she wants, though I would be unsuited for the subjects they teach me. On the other hand, I could attend another school and disappoint my grandmother but attain a better education that would serve me well in the future._

_Sincerely,_

_John Plantwood._

Harry looked at the email and sighed. Things could never be simple, could they? He'd realized long ago that there was some large factor that wouldn't allow his pen-pal John to speak of something. He often used one word to describe something, and then used another. As if he was using a thesaurus and dictionary.

He knew very little important things about his friend, though he new many trivial things. The important things he knew were that his friend lived nearby (because of his language and use of words and phrases unique to the countries close by), his parents were "killed" by a madwomen who was now kept in prison (though Harry had a feeling that this wasn't the whole story), that madwomen was led by a yet unnamed person who most people believed dead but John believed was still alive, John was hopeless at almost anything but Botany, and that John was a very shy and timid person.

He also knew that he'd allowed his pen-pal some information about him as well. What he'd let slip were also trivial pieces of information that wouldn't allow anyone to pinpoint his location, but also a few other things. He was an orphan, he was adopted, he was a genius, and he attended a very elite school.

After taking apart the email in his mind piece by piece, he pressed the button for new email and began to type on his laptop (bought from his own money from his books).

_Dear John,_

_I was surprised to receive your last email. I'm not used to such serious subjects in regard to our correspondence, though I does come up in both our lives when we wish for an objective person to give advice._

_From what I've pieced together, you seem to be worried about two things in particular. The first is the thoughts of your grandmother, who you wish to not disappoint. The second is that same "unknown factor" that makes your life so different from mine. It seems that "unknown factor" makes this school different from any other._

_For this reason, I could indeed tell you that in my person opinion, I don't have one. I simply don't have the necessary information to give advice, and you cannot give that information to me without telling me this "unknown factor" and your identity - both of which we are not allowed to discuss._

_Without being able to make a decision one way or another, my only thoughts are quite simple and clear._

_It seems that your grandmother feels real affection toward you, and it that same affection that wants you to be a strong, intelligent individual. It seems that she wishes for you to be stronger than you already are, which is why she often pressures you. I believe that if you show the strength of will to do what you really want, it will make her content that you've "grown up" and "matured" a bit and no longer rely on her so much._

_When it comes to this "unknown factor" I can tell you little. From what I've pieced together, this "unknown factor" is what makes this school that you personally do not wish to attend so special. Special enough that you cannot find any other school that also has this "unknown factor" involved. I can, however, tell you that your knowledge of Botany may well give you a scholarship to my own school. If you centered your extra classes on Botany-related subjects, and took the rest of your core subjects - English, Mathematics, Science, etc - at a nearby normal school, you might be able to make it work._

_Yet again, that same "unknown factor" will probably stop you, though._

_If you wish, I could arrange for you to be given a tour of the Academy grounds and see what you think. It could help your desicion to see what other schools are like._

_Sincerely,_

_James Archibald_

He quickly read over his email, edited a few lines, and sent it off. Closing his laptop, he turned to Hermione who was at this point almost finished with the first chapter of the mathematics book - which dealt with the most basic of theorems, postulates, and definitions.

"Hermione," He said.

She looked up. "What's up?" She asked, her brown eyes widening in curiousity.

"I have a strange feeling," Harry said, his emerald eyes narrowing. "That something's going on. It's only been growing stranger as time passes. And I believe it has something to do with magic."

Hermione blinked. "So you've change your mind about attending that school?"

"Perhaps," Harry said. "But not entirely. I've already gotten my hands on a great deal of spells. After researching the groups of magic I found most potentially alarming and dangerous toward me, I've already armed myself with knowledge against them. Things such as their mind-reading no longer work on me."

Hermione tilted her head and sat down the mathematics book - setting aside a mere book of knowledge in order to hear the thought of her friend, which were always much more informative and interesting.

Harry continued, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, folding his hands in front of his face in thought. "This magical world keeps sending my instinct into a frenzy. Something big is happening here. And I can't seem to find out _what_."

Hermione smiled slightly. "It's infuriating you, isn't it?" She asked, knowing about Harry's personality and hatred of being helpless.

"Yes!" He said. "The whole point of studying more than other people and preparing myself with knowledge was so that I could understand more and be prepared for whatever was thrown in my direction. After so long doing that, having an unknown variable that I'm missing is throwing the whole equation aside!"

Hermione sighed. "Harry, the world isn't a math problem. Earth doesn't work on theorems, postulates, and definitions. Science can only bring a person so far, Harry. Humans have emotions - things that cannot be defined. You can't be prepared for everything."

"I know, Hermione! I _know_ that!" Harry said. "I've accepted that a long time ago and I no longer try. But I can prepare for _most_ things. Whatever variable I'm missing, it's throwing everything I know out of it's place. Up is down, now. Until I find out what it is that I overlooked, this magical world is a potential negative factor."

Hermione waited for a long moment in silence, trying to find out what her friend was feeling and thinking. Then she stood up and started pacing, becoming restless. "...I can understand what you mean. Until a while ago, I thought that Elementals were the only type of magicians out there. But, I'm starting to realize that my horizons were much smaller than they should have been. With this magical world now open, I want to know everything about it. You know how I am, Harry. I love knowledge. And this world is just that - an entire other world, governed by different laws that ours. I can't allow my fear of that world to stop me from learning."

Harry shook his head. "But..." He trailed off. His emerald eyes were blank, and he seemed to be unable to understand exactly what negative thoughts and feeling he was thinking about the magical world. It seemed that all the reasons he'd given were all excuses, to him. It seemed as if he was trying to persuade himself more than Hermione that it wasn't wise to get involved.

Hermione eventually sat back down with a tired sigh. "You're scared, aren't you?" She asked.

Harry was startled, and looked upwards at Hermione in shock.

Hermione continued. "You're scared. Just like I am. Being an Elemental and a super genius has given you a certain advantage over most other people. Now that your home field advantage is gone - now that your knowledge is about the same as everyone else's because you don't have an in-depth understanding of the workings of the world - you're scared. There's now a chance of failure that you haven't had to think about for years, now. And you're scared of it."

Harry thought over Hermione's words, trying to figure out what she was saying. As time passed slowly in the kitchen - with Hermione patiently waiting for her friend, and Harry trying to think over whether or not Hermione was right - the boy seemed to realize exactly what Hermione meant.

"You're right," He said. "You're right. You're absolutely _right_. I'm scared," He said, his emerald eyes bright as he shared his fears with his best friend. "For the last few years, I've not had to worry about failure, because I've always been able to use my knowledge to push myself ahead. While everyone else started at zero, I had already moved on to ten. With this new world, I'm starting at zero, just like everyone else. And I'm scared that I won't be able to stay ahead."

Hermione smiled with a certain amount of pride that she'd been able to figure out what her more intelligent friend had not. "I'm feeling the same way, too. If I enter that world, people who've lived in it their entire lives will have that "home field advantage" that I've enjoyed my entire life. I terrifies me. But I can't let this opportunity to pass by. I've already passed four years of school, while you're already taking college-level classes. To give that up seems insane."

Harry sighed. "Well, now that we've existed that particular train of thought, that unknown variable that I've been feeling is also a major issue."

"When you say "major issue"," Hermione said. "Just how important do you think this variable is."

Harry replied without a single moment of hesitation. "Life-changing."

"Even for us?" Hermione asked, shocked that this variable was so large.

"Yes."

Hermione opened her book again. "Well, until we find out exactly what that variable is, there's nothing we can do. This magical world, as I've said before, seems very interesting. I would enjoy attending their school - if only for a change of scenery."

Harry slumped in his chair. "I still don't want to attend, myself. But until I fully understand that variable that my mind keeps insisting is there, I won't be able to have any peace."

Hermione grinned. "I knew you'd see things my way!" She said, before she started actually reading her book.

[] [] [] [] []

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, confused.

Harry Potter's letter had not yet been given to him.

Why?

Because no matter _which_ owl they used, it _refused_ to actually leave it's perch so long as the letter was attached to it's claw. Eventually, said owl would turn it's back on Dumbledore and just start ignoring him. If that didn't work, the owl attacked Dumbledore, dropped the letter on the floor, and flew off into the Forbidden Forest for the rest of the day.

Dumbledore eventually just gave up - after being driven to eat a whole bag of his lemon drops to calm him down after he stressed out. After refilling the bowl containing Lemon Drops on his desk and drinking a cup of pumpkin juice (the hard candies had made him thirsty) he finally stood up and left his office.

Dumbledore called for Severus and Minerva, before they all walked off of Hogwarts' grounds and Apparated to Number Four Privet Drive.

Arriving at Privet Drive, Severus sneered at the cookie-cutter houses, while Minerva looked worriedly at Number Four and walked straight toward it. Very few things could stop owls, after all. Death was one of them.

When they opened the door, Petunia Dursley took one look at them, slammed the door, locked the door, and started looking for a hiding spot. During the yelled conversation through the door, Dumbledore and his two friend found out one, single thing.

Harry Potter had never taken a single step into that house.

Starting to become frightened, Dumbledore cast many spells on the house and his eyes dimmed with horror as he realized that the Wards that were supposed to be there, were not.

Harry truly didn't live there.

Just as Dumbledore walked down the sidewalk and to the street out of habit to Apparate away - with Severus and Minerva closely following him - Dumbledore caught sight of the strangest thing.

Just one house over - at Number Six - a large group of students walked out of the house. Normally, that would not have shocked Dumbledore. He taught a school, after all, and children meeting together and having fun was nothing out of the ordinary.

But, as the children in their matching school uniforms turned around and waved their final goodbyes, the scene caught his eye.

The group they were saying goodbye to was fairly large, eight people standing on the sidewalk, if Dumbledore had bothered to count. Five boys, three girls. All of them had the same aura of intelligence, though it was less than the girl on the porch, and much, much less than the boy on the porch. One of the boys of the large group and two, also, of the girls had glasses on as well.

It was the two children they were saying their goodbyes to on the porch, however, that surprised him.

The first child was clothed in a blue, plaid skirt, a button-up shirt, a black sweater-vest, and had her bushy hair pulled back. She looked quite normal, though she was very neat and tidy in her appearance. Her warm, kind, brown eyes, however, showed quite a bit of knowledge, and allowed those around her to see the beginning of a mother tiger who would protect those she considered friend.

The second child, however... The _second_ child...

The second child had black hair, which was quite untidy. It poked in every direction, but seemed only to add to the boy's air of intelligence. His eyes were emerald, a shade of green that Dumbledore had seen on only one person before. They looked sharply at his group of friends through a pair of thin, rectangular glasses. He was also dressed in a tidy school uniform. His face was emotionless, but had an aura of affection for the people he was saying goodbye to.

The group of three wizards all stared at the boy in shock as the group finally made their way to the curb, some of them entering cars containing their parents, while the rest of them entered a limousine.

There was a definite likeness to James Potter, especially in his hair that obviously had the Potter Curse, but after ten years of growth, he looked more like his mother. Unlike James - who was a bit chubby until around sixth year - the boy was quite thin, a fine chin and nose already apparent. Like his mother, he was slim and looked just the slightest bit delicate at times. Though covered by glasses, it was Lily's eyes that were the most striking about his appearance. Like his mother, they were intelligent, but they had a certain fire in them that didn't leave any doubt at all about his bravery.

Minerva recognized both students - having explained the wizarding world to Miss Hermione Granger only a few hours ago. Severus, however, was standing in shock at the likeness to Lily Evans, and his mind was flashing back.

The boy, by some sort of fate which still pulled at him even though the first version of fate had already been destroyed, happened to look directly at Dumbledore before he turned around to enter his home.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes wide with hope.

The scene was complete as the sun suddenly made it's way from beyond a cloud to shine on the meeting that had been waiting for ten years. The meeting between the wizarding world, and the boy that would one day save it.

The boy, however, didn't seem to share the same hope as Dumbledore. Completely ruining the scene, his eyes narrowed and he said. "_You're_ the old man who left me to freeze in the October night ten years ago!"

_To be continued..._


End file.
